


Getting Nowhere

by nipsynips



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: M/M, Sad John, sad and angry porn in some studio toilets, sad paul, you know how it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 14:31:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16139219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nipsynips/pseuds/nipsynips
Summary: John abruptly storms out of a recording session. Paul follows him.





	Getting Nowhere

Paul watched John drop his guitar onto the floor mid-song and storm out, mumbling, “Need a piss,” as he slammed the studio door shut behind himself.  
  
Paul sighed as he lowered his own guitar and pushed his hands into his hair.  He tried to calm himself down from the now familiar urge of wanting to scream until his throat felt raw from exertion.  
  
He looked around the room and saw the pitying glances being shot his way and knew he had to leave before the Comfort Paul initiative began.  
  
“I’ll be back,” he muttered and slammed the doors open without looking back, following along the hallway towards the toilets.  
  
He felt his fists clench at his sides, shutting his eyes against the violent thoughts overtaking his brain.  
  
He wanted to punch John in the face and call him a _fucker_. He wanted to grab John by the shoulders and demand that he take this more seriously. Take _him_ more seriously.  
  
He wanted a declaration of hate. He wanted a signed acknowledgement of the betrayal he felt every single day John chose everyone else over him.  
  
_Fuck,_ but he wanted.  
  
He needed to watch the sweat gather at his upper lip and lick it off. He needed to wrap his long auburn hair into a bundle and pull, pull, _pull_ until his eyelashes fluttered in that familiar mixture of pain and ecstasy. He needed to feel his stubble burn against the side of his jaw in desperation as he tried to swallow him whole.  
  
_Fuck_ , but he needed.  
  
\- - -  
  
He found him in the bathroom with a hand pressed against the wall of the urinals and his body swaying with the effort of standing upright.  
  
Paul leaned against the doorway and watched John grapple with his flies, his long fingers slipping against the zip. He felt the corners of his mouth begin to twitch upwards at the sound of John cursing his attempts at tucking himself back in with minimal damage.  
  
Beads of sweat were forming at the back of John’s neck where he’d moved the hair out of the way and Paul swiped his tongue over his lips at the sight, though he was furious for it. He thought about twisting the sweat-soaked hair around his fingers and biting down on the juncture where neck met shoulder.  
  
Suddenly, John’s voice filled the room.  
  
“Like what ye see?” He slurred, having finally managed to get his trousers done up properly.  
  
Paul felt his pulse quicken and swallowed roughly before responding.  
  
“Hardly.”  
  
John chuckled to himself as he turned around to lean against the sinks. He shifted his denim-clad hips to the side as he pulled a lighter out of his pocket and produced a cigarette from behind his ear.  
  
Once he got the cigarette lit and between his lips, John lifted his dark gaze to lock with Paul’s and grinned.  
  
“’s that so?” He jutted his chin out and Paul, mesmerised, watched the smoke curl around his mouth as he slowly exhaled.  
  
Paul swallowed at the feeling of being watched so closely. John had him pinned with an almost feral glaze in his eyes.  
  
His hair was sticking up in all different directions, and Paul couldn’t help but stare at John’s hands as he smoked and slowly rubbed the edge of his jacket between calloused fingertips.  
  
Paul felt his gaze follow helplessly as he watched one of John’s hands suddenly move lower, openly adjusting himself through his trousers.  
  
As John gave himself a firm squeeze, Paul quickly looked back up and found John’s knowing grin spread even wider.  
  
“Think yer lying,” he drawled and tapped his cigarette until the ash fell to the floor.  
  
“Think you’re an arsehole,” Paul countered and stared back defiantly, refusing to take the bait.  
  
John gave a derisive snort and let out another exhale of smoke.  
  
“Don’t see how one hurts the other, _love_.”  
  
Paul felt his heart constrict at the casual cruelty insinuated by John’s pointed use of a pet name and felt his anger overtake him once more.  
  
“They’re waiting for us, John,” he glared as John’s expression remained unchanged. “If you’re going to drink yourself into a stupor, the least you could fucking do is wait until after we’ve finished recording.”  
  
“But how else would I have gotten ye to follow me into the toilets, Paulie?” John mocked and stubbed out the cigarette against the heel of his boot. He slowly ground it down into the floor, dark ash standing out starkly against white tile. He maintained eye contact as he dug his heel in deeper, enjoying the hurt flashing in Paul’s eyes.  
  
_Good_ , he thought. _Maybe now we can understand each other better._  
  
“Paulie, _baby_ ,” John moaned, latching onto the source of Paul’s discomfort. His grin turned wicked at the sight of Paul’s face turning a deep red and slowly pushed himself away from the sinks, starting to slink towards Paul like a cat. “Paulie, baby, _princess_.”  
  
Paul felt his ears burn with embarrassment at the words once said with love and sincerity, now being spat back in his face with venom.  
  
“Shut up, John.”  
  
John’s answering laughter filled the room as he moved impossibly closer.  
  
“I don’t think you mean that, Paul.” Just a few inches away, now.  
  
“I think you want me.” Bit closer.  
  
His boots came to a halt. Paul felt his breath catch as John peered down at him over his glasses and covered the last few remaining inches between them as he whispered, “I think you _need_ me.”  
  
John could feel the sharp flare of arousal spread through his belly. He knew he’d crossed a line by verging into explicitly forbidden territory. However, at the sight of Paul’s expression – angry, confused, _wanting_ – John couldn’t bring himself to care.  
  
Paul felt panic begin to overtake him as John’s arms moved to entrap him against the bathroom door. He latched onto the front of John’s shirt in an effort to push him away but couldn’t bring himself to do it, felt his fingers tightening in the fabric instead.  
  
_Fuck,_ this wasn’t what he wanted.  
  
But wasn’t it? Didn’t he know this would happen? Was it not disgustingly predictable as soon as he had made the decision to follow John into the toilets?  
  
Maybe that’s why they pitied him. They knew it just as well as he did.  
  
_Pathetic._  
  
He could almost taste John’s familiar beery breath against his lips as he whispered again, “I think you still love me.”  
  
Paul shivered at the low tone spoken so close to his ear and looked up to find that John’s ugly grin had finally fallen from his face. His almond eyes were sharp as they searched Paul’s face for a reaction and his breath felt hot against his lips.  
  
Heat, red and pulsating, spread through Paul’s lower belly in spite of the hurt still radiating throughout his chest. The familiar angles of John’s hips (sharper now, Paul noted) pressing against his own did nothing to dispel the fire he felt flaring upwards and, soon, Paul felt overwhelmed with the weight of his memories.  
  
He remembered that day at the fete, fascinated with the effortlessly cool boy who only knew how to play banjo chords.  
  
He remembered their first kiss, shy and soft in his tiny bedroom at Forthlin Road.  
  
He remembered their second, hard and desperate in John’s room at Mendips.  
  
He remembered giving his first blowjob, watching John’s eyes roll back into his head as his hands pulled at his hair in an alley way outside of the Cavern.  
  
He remembered their first fuck, John’s teeth buried in the crook of his neck as he slicked his fingers with cheap German lube from a sex shop in Hamburg.  
  
He remembered Paris.  
  
Paul’s fists slackened against John’s chest and John, noticing the momentary lapse in Paul’s grip, moved to press his knee between Paul’s thighs.  
  
Paul let out a small whimper at the pressure and shut his eyes at the feeling of one of John’s long fingers circling his jaw, slowly opening himself up to John’s caresses.  
  
Paul desperately bit down on his bottom lip to take the edge off.  
  
He felt his pulse beating erratically against his neck and took a deep breath, only to have his senses overtaken by the distinct musk he had always associated with a sweaty John Lennon.  
  
He felt the hurt in his chest morph into the familiar pain that came with loving someone like John. Brilliant, beautiful, enigmatic, kind John.  
  
_Angry, jealous, insecure, doesn’t-need-you-anymore John,_ his brain supplied helpfully.  
  
Paul felt the terrifying weight of his yearning in spite of everything and It was in that moment – under the bright fluorescent lights of the studio toilets with John’s knee pressing against his crotch and his quintessential smell tickling Paul’s nose – that he knew John was right.  
  
Always was, the _bastard._  
  
At the sound of John’s returning laughter, however, Paul felt the effects of his revelation dissipate and fury take its place once more.  
  
Paul’s fists pushed back against John’s chest with a strength he didn’t know he possessed. His mind was screaming at him to get out, his eyes were wild with hurt and betrayal, and he was _so fucking tired._  
  
John fell back easily, the combination of shock and drink making him less stable. He looked confused at suddenly finding himself on the floor and scowled as he looked back up at Paul.  
  
“Oi, you _fuck_ , what are ye doing?”  
  
Paul felt his face burn as he spat out, “Don’t fucking touch me.”  
  
John pushed his hands against the floor and swayed to his feet, his eyes narrowing as he found his balance once more.  
  
“Tell that to yer cock,” John spat back, leering at the prominent bulge in Paul’s trousers.  
  
“That’s none of your fucking concern anymore, now is it, _Johnny?_ ”  
  
Paul regretted it the moment he said it. John could play this game, sure, but Paul couldn’t help but hold onto the few moments that still belonged to them.  
  
_Johnny._ He had sullied something sacred.  
  
Paul’s eyes were manic as he tried to make sense of what was happening but felt the last of his anger slip when he locked eyes with John and saw the same hurt reflected back at him.  
  
John’s eyes looked unguarded for the first time in what felt like months. Months of what had been agonizing silence and, when it wasn’t, months of hurled insults and vitriol.  
  
_Insults were best_ , Paul thought. Insults meant John was speaking to him again.  
  
Paul was so tired.  
  
“Paul,” John’s voice, soft and quiet, finally spoke out.  
  
Paul closed his eyes at the sound and heard himself let out a long sigh.  
  
“Paul,” John repeated, this time taking a tentative step forward.  
  
“ _Please,_ ” Paul could barely bring himself to speak above a whisper.  
  
Please what? Please stop? Please come closer? Please leave and never talk to me again?  
  
His hurt stuttered at the thought.  
  
_No.  
  
 _ John would know.  
  
“Please, Johnny,” he gasped as he felt John’s hands curl around his waist and push his back against the wall.  
  
“I’m here,” John whispered as he pressed a kiss into the corner of Paul’s mouth. “I’m here, baby.”  
  
He felt John begin to press kisses urgently up the side of his neck and Paul’s hands twisted up into the hair at the back of John’s head.  
  
“Baby,” John repeated nonsensically as he bit down on Paul’s jugular. “ _My_ baby.”  
  
Paul groaned at the familiar pain shooting through his neck and felt his leg lift up and wrap around John’s, hoisting himself upwards and feeling John’s answering strong grip around his thigh.  
  
“ _John_ ,” Paul moaned as he ground down on John’s leg, the new position making John’s hand tighten with the friction.  
  
“Mm,” John answered, out of breath and needy, scattering kisses all over Paul’s face as he moved his hand lower to squeeze at Paul’s arse.  
  
Paul growled at the touch and moved to hold John at the bolt of his jaw, finally licking into his mouth.  
  
John let him in eagerly, his chest soaring at the feeling of Paul’s soft mouth moving against his own. Paul’s head swam with the combined onslaught of lust, fear, and stupid joy. He felt John’s tongue wrap around his own and wondered how they’d ever thought they could give this up.  
  
How did they get here?  
  
And then Paul remembered her black eyes, her knowing gaze, and felt his heart stutter at the fresh wave of resentment overtaking his chest.  
  
Paul broke away and brushed his fingers against John’s jawline as he sighed.  
  
“John, we have to stop.”  
  
John shook his head in protest and moved to capture Paul’s lips again, only to find himself connecting with Paul’s cheek instead.  
  
“Paulie, please,” John begged, his voice rough and pleading as he pressed a kiss against the side of Paul’s face.  
  
Paul shook his head and pushed John back, softly but firmly. He would not give John more reason to hate and resent him.  
  
“John, she’s waiting for you. She’ll know,” He mumbled and moved his face to burrow against John’s chest, pressing a kiss where his heart was.  
  
John’s stomach gave a low swoop at having Paul’s dark head against his chest in such an open show of affection. The hands against Paul’s arse faltered slightly but remained firmly in place, as if Paul were his only grip on reality left.  
  
John nudged his nose against the top of Paul’s head and whispered, “I don’t care.”  
  
Paul smiled sadly into John’s chest and murmured, “You do.”  
  
He hated the dull, resigned tone of Paul’s words. He knew it was his fault. He knew he was hurting him. He knew the pain in his eyes was his fault, too, and knew that he had caused it on purpose.  
  
“Paul,” John took hold of Paul’s chin and lifted his face upwards until Paul caught his eye again. _Beautiful boy_ , John thought, the familiar force of helpless desire striking him speechless for a second.  
  
He shook his head at the gentle sound Paul made to show he was listening. “Right now,” he continued as he softly brushed a stray hair away from Paul’s forehead, “I don’t care.”  
  
Paul felt his mouth begin to open again in protest, to say “ _I_ care,” but John shook his head and lifted Paul’s face up higher, so he could lean in and press a kiss against his bruised lips.  
  
“Right now, it’s you.” John felt a prickle of satisfaction as their lips caught mid-sentence. Kissing him again, John whispered, “I only need you.”  
  
Paul knew better than to listen, knew better than to let this continue. John would change his mind in an hour after he’d satisfied his craving, and off Paul would go to wallow in his own misery until John remembered him again.  
  
But Paul had missed this _so much._  
  
He had missed John’s calloused fingers running over his skin. He had missed John’s lovely, thin lips, his warm brown eyes, and his beautiful, long nose.  
  
He had missed _John._  
  
“Okay,” he found himself soothing, almost automatically. “Okay, Johnny.” As if he’d ever deny John anything.  
  
John surged up against him and broke into the most beautiful smile Paul had ever seen. Paul knew it was all worth it then, no matter how temporary, as long as John kept smiling at him like that.  
  
Paul stroked his fingers gently over John’s cheekbones, grinning when John scrunched up his nose at the featherlight touches.  
  
“Beautiful,” Paul whispered and smiled when John shook his head in protest.  
  
“Y’are,” Paul pressed on, cupping John’s cheek and softly stroking the skin there. _Thin_ , Paul thought again, but knew John wouldn’t appreciate the comment.  
  
Paul was just about to trace the line of John’s nose when he let out a yelp of shock as John firmly took hold of his wandering hands and pressed them against Paul’s sides. He leaned back in with renewed conviction and pressed his lips against Paul’s, desperately pushing his tongue inside.  
  
Paul responded in kind, flicking his tongue against John’s and pulling back slowly every now and then to tease John into growling and sucking his tongue back into his mouth.  
  
John groaned at the small sighs and whimpers coming out of Paul’s mouth and continued to suck at his tongue, all the while making slow soothing motions with his fingers at the small of Paul’s back.  
  
His other hand continued to squeeze Paul’s backside through his trousers as he pushed his hips into Paul’s crotch, moaning quietly every time Paul ground back against him.  
  
“Paulie,” John breathed in between kisses, “y’got – y’got anythin’ on ye?”  
  
Paul felt John step back as he pulled his body against his own, making room for himself to push his hand down between Paul’s bare arse and pants. At the feeling of one of John’s fingers slowly making its way down, Paul shivered and leaned up to bite at John’s earlobe, relishing in the sound he made before responding.  
  
“Do ye think I came in today expecting to get fucked in the toilets?”  
  
He felt John’s finger begin to slowly circle his perineum and moaned as his hips involuntarily bucked up into the touch.  
  
John raised his eyebrow at Paul’s question and squeezed his arse again in lieu of replying, smirking at Paul’s low moan against his ear.  
  
“Open yer mouth for me, then, love,” John breathed as he moved his hand to rest against Paul’s lips, staring at them with obvious want until Paul let him in.  
  
Paul closed his eyes at the feeling of John’s fingers pushing past his lips and sliding deeper into his mouth. As the rough connected with his tongue, Paul slowly began to suck.  
  
He licked over the pads of John’s fingers and choked back a moan when John began to make small thrusting motions with his hand. He swirled his tongue around John’s index and took him in deeper, his eyes fluttering open to find John slack-jawed and completely at his mercy.  
  
John breathed in heavily as he watched his fingers disappear into Paul’s mouth over and over again, and bit his lip when he felt sharp incisors teasingly nibble at the tips.  
  
He watched saliva pool in the spaces between his fingers as he continued thrusting them inside and briefly regretted not asking for Paul’s mouth in the first place.  
  
But then it wouldn’t have been right. It wouldn’t have been enough. He wanted all of Paul to himself. He wanted to _feel_ him in every way possible and knew that any other way would not be worth reopening the door they had tried so desperately to seal. To be worth the pain of separating again afterwards.  
  
John’s heart ached preemptively at the thought, but he knew neither one of them could turn back now.  
  
Paul watched John through half hooded lids, looking thoroughly worked up and debauched, and let John’s fingers go with a final suck.  
  
John stared at his spit-slicked fingers in awe before looking back down at Paul’s crotch.  
  
“Would ye mind helping us out, princess?” John eyed Paul’s zipper as he spoke, and Paul blushed at the spike of arousal he felt at his words.  
  
He nodded and moved his hand to lower the zip on his trousers. He slowly shifted the material, along with his pants, down his hips.  
  
When he moved to lower his leg from John’s hip to fully shuck himself free of his clothes, he felt John’s grip tighten on his thigh and refuse to let go.  
  
“Johnny, I have to – ,” Paul’s protest was cut short by John’s tongue slipping past his lips once more, groaning when he felt John bite down on his bottom lip.  
  
“Keep ‘em on,” John insisted as he soothed the bite, muttering, “Filthier with them on. You’ll think of me every time you wear ‘em.”  
  
Paul shivered at the thought and began to nod fervently, kissing John back as he hiked his leg up higher and pushed his now bare cock into John’s thigh.  
  
John felt his mouth water as he broke away from their kiss and lowered his gaze to the familiar sight of dark pubic hair surrounding Paul’s cock. He groaned and pushed his hips forwards.  
  
“Yer fucking perfect,” John slurred, lifting a hand from Paul’s arse to push his pants down further.  
  
Paul smiled at the awe in John’s voice and nuzzled into the crook of his neck. He leaned in to press a kiss against the pulse point there, thrumming beneath John’s freckled skin, before biting down _hard._  
  
“Please,” Paul whispered, “I want you to fuck me now, Johnny. I want to feel you.”  
  
John groaned and thrust upwards in anticipation of what they were about to do. He quickly moved to unzip his flies but was stopped by Paul’s soft grip coming to rest against his wrist.  
  
“Paul?” He questioned, slowly, rubbing his thumb over Paul’s fingers in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.  
  
Paul gave him a filthy grin and moved his own hand down John’s jeans. “Let me,” He murmured as he rubbed at John’s crotch, moving his palm firmly against the bulge growing there.  
  
John felt his face flush at the rough and sure hand working against him, and leaned into Paul’s mouth again. There was something so _dirty_ about exposing only what was necessary, and he felt himself grow harder under Paul’s expert fingers.  
  
“Yeah,” he nodded, “God, yeah.”  
  
Paul smirked at John’s desperation and moved his hand, his fingers catching at John’s zip. He felt his mouth fall open as John moved his head away, whimpering as his hand made contact with the wet head of John’s cock.  
  
Paul slowly pulled him out of his jeans, his mouth going dry at the sight. He swiped his thumb over the tip experimentally, enjoying the resulting wild buck of John’s hips.  
  
Letting John’s moans spur him on, Paul worked to spread the pre-cum leaking down the length of him, and moved his hand down before twisting it back up. He felt his own breath hitch at the sight of John’s lips slackened with pleasure and sped up his movements. He wanted John completely and thoroughly wrecked.  
  
John felt his hips moving involuntarily with Paul’s hand and groaned angrily as he forced himself to stop.  
  
“Paul,” He panted and grabbed hold of Paul’s hand, moving it away.  
  
Paul pouted at the action, missing the weight of him in his hand already, before he obediently moved away to loop his hands around John’s neck.  
  
He pressed a final kiss against John’s jawline and looked up at him through his eyelashes.  
  
“Been dreaming of this for so long,” He whispered and then gasped when he felt John’s spit-slicked fingers move down his arse.  
  
“Me too,” John confessed as he slowly began to circle Paul with his finger, “All the time.”  
  
John continued circling Paul, teasingly pressing his finger down a bit harder at every other pass, until Paul’s hips bucked up impatiently. John grinned at the sound of Paul whining in his ear and finally moved the wet tip of his finger against the tightness there.  
  
_Fuck,_ he was really tight. John began to think Paul’s spit wouldn’t be enough.  
  
Seeing John’s eyebrow furrowed with worry, Paul shook his head in desperation.  
  
“Johnny, please, I want it,” He moaned and rubbed himself against John’s leg. “You won’t hurt me. Just go slow, use more spit, I’ll be ok.”  
  
John looked up in wonder, not for the first time, at Paul’s ability to read him so well and felt his heart lurch painfully.  
  
“Ok. Ok.”  
  
John pressed his finger in again, this time breaching past the initial resistance. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth with the pressure and moved to spit into his hand for extra lubrication.  
  
He spread the spit onto his fingers and grabbed his own cock, transferring some of the pre-cum there between Paul’s legs.  
  
Paul closed his eyes at the initial discomfort of John’s finger slowly pressing inside him, but soon felt himself begin to relax as John managed to press a second finger inside with a bit more ease.  
  
“Baby,” John panted as he slowly began to thrust his fingers inside Paul. He pulled them out after a few seconds, spit again, and pushed them back inside with increased vigor.  
  
He repeated the action a few more times – spitting, scissoring, and thrusting – before he finally crooked his fingers and felt Paul’s body shake with the sudden force of his keening cry.  
  
“That hit the spot, then, princess?” John whispered into Paul’s ear as he tightened his grip against Paul’s thigh, feeling rather than hearing Paul’s answer in the affirmative.  
  
“Good,” John bit down on his earlobe and felt Paul’s hands tighten at his chest. “Relax, now. Let me take care of you.”  
  
John pressed Paul against the wall as he moved his weight off him. Standing up straighter, John took a moment to look at the body in front of him. He took a shaky intake of breath at the thatch of thick, dark hair leading into Paul’s unzipped jeans.  
  
_Mine_ , John thought as he gripped Paul’s thighs tighter.  
  
_All fucking mine._ He lifted the long pale legs onto his waist and lightly tapped on the skinny ankles before he felt Paul draw him in tight like an octopus.  
  
“Johnny,” Paul moaned. Quietly, desperately.  
  
He thrusted in viciously, groaning at the sound of Paul’s harsh intake of breath.  
  
“Yeah?” John growled as he slowly pulled out before slamming back in.   
  
“Y’like that, Paulie?” He pushed his hips up against the curve of Paul’s arse until he heard Paul cry out, pulling out again before slamming in harder.  
  
“You like getting _fucked_?” He pinched at Paul’s arse as he teasingly pulled out again, waiting until Paul started cursing to reward him with another thrust.  
  
“ _Please_ , Johnny, oh god _, please_ ,” Paul’s mouth was seeking as he shut his eyes against the pleasure, feeling insane with lust and want.  
  
John smirked as he took hold of Paul’s cock at the base and squeezed.  
  
And then he was off.  
  
John began to slam into Paul repeatedly, making sure to hit his prostate at every thrust.  
  
He moved his hand to cover Paul’s mouth when his cries became too loud, his hips moving forward relentlessly as Paul completely lost himself to the lude sounds of skin slapping against skin.  
  
“Oh, Johnny, oh so fucking _close,_ ” Paul hissed at a particularly hard thrust and felt himself begin to tighten around John’s cock.  
  
“C’mon, baby,” John panted as he tightened his hold on Paul’s thighs. “I’ve got you, come for me now.”  
  
John felt his own orgasm rapidly approaching and knew he wouldn’t last much longer.  
  
“C’mon, princess, come for me. So gorgeous,” John moaned as he slammed into Paul over and over, “so gorgeous for me.”  
  
Suddenly, Paul cried out as John pressed his hand firmly against his mouth again, the walls surrounding John’s cock squeezing as Paul started to come.  
  
John gave out a guttural moan as he continued thrusting into Paul, watching the blissful expression on Paul’s face switch to vague discomfort at the over-stimulation of John pressing against his prostate.  
  
Feeling Paul’s thighs shaking around his waist, John began to come in spurts, slamming his hips into Paul’s as he rode out his orgasm.  
  
“J _ohn_ ,” Paul moaned quietly as John gave a final thrust into the tight heat surrounding him, and collapsed against the wall, slowly moving both himself and Paul onto the floor.  
  
Five minutes passed before anyone spoke again.  
  
“Paulie,” John muttered weakly, as he raised his head from where it had been resting against Paul’s chest.  
  
“Mmm?” Paul was lazily moving his fingers through John’s hair, twisting the strands around his fingers.  
  
“D’ye think they’re looking for us yet?”  
  
Paul paused his ministrations, thoughtful, before resuming.  
  
“Dunno.”  
  
John smiled at Paul’s complete lack of concern for their current state, feeling his cock twitch with vague interest at the sight of Paul’s trousers pulled halfway down his long, pale legs.  
  
“Think they’re happy just to have us out of the room,” Paul added, wrapping John’s hair around his fist before pulling his head back slightly, moving to press a kiss against John’s throat.  
  
“Mmm,” John sighed happily at the feeling of Paul’s lips lightly pressing against his skin.  
  
Paul flicked his tongue out once, just to taste, before finally letting go of John’s hair. He smiled sadly at the floor before pushing himself back up.  
  
“C’mon. They’ll send a search party out for us. They probably think we’ve killed each other already.”  
  
John chuckled and stood up as well, brushing at his jeans.  
  
“Wouldn’t want that, eh?” John winked, though his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.  
  
Paul stared at him, taking in John’s mussed hair and puffy, bruised lips.  
  
“I miss you, Johnny.”  
  
John reached out to touch Paul, run his fingers through his dark tresses, before thinking better of it. He let his arm fall uselessly against his side.  
  
“I know, Paul,” He sighed. “I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> hello! this is my first work for this fandom so I hope it wasn't too painful to get through. please do leave comments and, if you'd like, go ahead and follow me at nipsynips.tumblr.com and talk to me about paul mccartney's facial hair. please.


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